RealisVere (Chapter 5)

Rayda reached for Halim, then, picking him up between her thumb and forefinger, and instantly affixed him spread-eagle against the marshmallowy northern curvature of her sole, right where it leveled into the shelf of her toes like the thick squishy roots of closely-planted trees. She looped the string first around her entire foot, then once more, binding her brother ever-tauter in place, and for good measure afterward, twirled it around each squirmy digit before at last tying it all together in a pretty bow like a Christmas present. Which was oddly fitting, since this was the most meaningful gift she’d ever given to Halim, even if “she” was still just the virtual reality he’d created, evidently infected by a pervy subconscious. Of course he’d never had the forbidden privilege of directly touching Rayda’s feet in real life, only ever gawping from a safe distance, then hatefully averting his gaze a fractional instant later.

Now, though, he was getting the full experience all in one go: squashed face-up at a half-inch tall, with limbs pitifully spread, against the doughy upper bulk of her sole, just able to see over the fleshy horizon above between two toes.

There was of course some sensory crossover here with the many occasions he’d spent after work at faux-Chaima’s feet, albeit to an even more intense magnitude, since Rayda had been actively dancing all afternoon, instead of stationarily wearing brown slippers like his wife. The radiant climate of her flesh was expected, like she’d just stepped in from a brisk summer jog, as was the soggy almost-pruny texture of sole skin greased from half a day’s effort of trying to aerobically please the internet. These elements were nothing new to Halim by now, even if they were more intense than usual. But of course there was a whole world of difference still, and he appreciated all of it immediately. Not just the upped slime factor of her sloppier perspiration compared to his wife’s serener sole, nor even the odor which was unquestionably distinct from the grimy flavors he usually huffed off the other digital giantess’s bare foot. He smelled culinary dashes of bittersweetness like ripe ginger and smokiness akin to black pepper, mixed with a bolder blast of fruity-flowery perfume ordered online from some obnoxious American fashion mall, and of course all overshadowed by a uniquely Rayda-specific strain of grungy glottal pheromone-rife dance sweat oozing from every virtual pore. It was hotter and smellier and sweeter at once than he could’ve dared to dream.

Yet as profoundly engrossing as it was to be immersed in those pungent body-sticking sensory delights, what really captivated Halim’s imagination (and libido) most urgently of all was the gratification of a sick fantasy he’d denied for so many years, and then ensured it could never rise to the surface again by keeping up a certain healthy animosity with the actual Rayda. It was happening. At long last. His twisted baser instinct to erotically wallow in the sultry filth of these beautiful feet which so shamefully belonged to his own selfishly undeserving sister had finally become reality, or at least as close as was humanly possible to achieve.

Giving the bow an extra tug to make sure it was secure, which pleasurably smothered Halim even tighter against her warm sole and flushed the meager air from his lungs again, Rayda happily hoisted her foot up and off the tabletop. It felt like taking the first gut-flipping hill of a roller coaster as her sole-hugged sibling was brought sailing toward the floor far faster than he would’ve liked, as if to stamp on him. Even though Halim was technically still “in control” of things here, though, and could have slowed time down or auto-adjusted Rayda’s behavior to treat him 20% more gently while still retaining that annoyingly beguiling brat-factor, he did nothing of the kind. He was too morbidly curious to see where this went when the AI was left to its own devices, not to mention sensually curious. Plus, the more control he gave up, the more this impossible scenario felt fantastically real.

So Halim did nothing to stop the freight train momentum of his giant sister’s foot crashing toward the floor, flinching and bracing in preparation, but unafraid. Sure enough, his acceptance was rewarded, as Rayda struck the ground heel-first with an imposing bwoooom that rattled all the way up her sole until it vibrated her half-inch-tall passenger with the force of a jackhammer, but accosted him with no actual pain nor crunched him directly into the floor. Then she rolled her foot forward while tilting it sideways, keeping her instep in contact with the floor, and repeated that jaunty move several times in succession as the music started back up. It didn’t take long for Halim to get dizzy, even while his sister had yet to actually take a full step with him aboard, as her toes giddily tapped and her heel thumped on the downbeat of her tunes, yet that hump at the edge of her arch where he was tied never actually touched the ground. Instead she skillfully kept him hovering a precarious hairsbreadth away from received a (simulated) smash into the earth at all times, even as the song hit its stride and Rayda accordingly found her groove.

At that point, she launched into a whirl of powerful moves, pivoting and quick-stepping about the room in conjunction with her thrusting hips and elegantly-flowing arms, as the music only picked up tempo. If Halim wasn’t so busy feeling wildly discombobulated by the chaos that ensued, he would’ve had to admit it was impressive that his giantess sibling could so quickly and artfully stay on-beat with the fast-paced rhythm while also never pounding or smearing him into the hard surface of the loft below. Yet was hard to concentrate on much else except his own focused debilitating oddly-enrapturing experience. Tied under Rayda’s foot, face-up into its weighty ceiling, Halim could see nothing except the epileptic flashes of light refracting off the sweaty terrain of her damp sole curvature whenever she stepped higher off the floor. And only occasionally, when she sashayed at just the right angle, his puny body slipped upward and he could peer between her toes, gazing up the skyscraping length of the giantess’s shapely neon silhouette, only to get squashed lower and out of sight again the instant after. This forceful rise-and-fall impetus caused him to sink upward against the momentarily sagging plushness of underfoot flesh whenever it ascended, as if he was about to be swallowed into its mass like time-dilated bread dough, only for the opposite to occur a split-second later when he became like Rayda’s personal miniature battering ram, driving back toward the ground for another step.

Each impact through her heel and toes, even if Halim wasn’t directly sandwiched at its center, rippled fresh quakes through his virtual bones. Moving so swiftly, with his titanic faux-sibling literally never coming to rest so long as the music played, the impression of a breeze sweeping below that sole span wasn’t enough to wash away the heated volume of aromatic fluid basted over every wrinkle and pore of Rayda’s skin. Not when Halim was smushed so wholly to that rounded upper ridge of under-toe flesh as if bound there by steel chains instead of blue string. If anything, that intoxicating scent and overwhelming sensation of tacky perspiration only gained intensity now, owing largely to the way the shrunken creator was breathing shallower while facially buried right into his gigantic sister’s puffed-out sole brawn, as well as the fact that her avatar was programmed to realistically mime all human processes – including the production of vinegar-clogged bodily perfume and a dripping spate of pepper-acerbic sweat when her exertion resumed.

And felt miraculous. Though he’d felt a spin of vertigo when the dance began, Halim had settled in now, surrendering completely to the momentum and gravity of his sister’s humongous bare foot. Considering he was tension-lashed by string to a sole that was regularly bashing into the floor and changing directions at top speed like a bus caught in a tornado, his body was remarkably relaxed. With that surrender came also better clarity of his surroundings and improved control – not over the situation, of course, but himself. Even pressurized so snugly to that moist underhang of arch bulk, Halim could breathe in as deeply as he liked now. And what he liked was to intake that sacred atmosphere as sharply and deeply as his simulated body would allow. It was nothing less than a rush. Rayda’s spiced sweat shot through him like a drug with every delicious gasp. Untapped combinations of that biting ginger, girly-girly perfume, and sour suntanned sole wrinkle flesh swirled in his brain, taking on fresh identities with every other inhale, and were only amplified by the newly brewed dollops of sweat leaking from her sole, coating his body as well like massage oil. While he doubted anything could ever surpass Chaima’s imagined minty saffron-soaked undersole tincture as his favorite, Halim had to acknowledge now that his sister’s own cloyingly rank stink was a close second. It had been there all along, for most of his life, ripe for the taking – if only placing his face against the real Rayda’s foot for even a microsecond outside the rsVR would’ve made him shrivel up and implode from pure humiliation.